four twenty five
by clandestine composer
Summary: A one shot about the longing after someone you think doesn't notice you.


_Hey there readers, this is exactly the same story as i posted the other day, i just made it a bit more reader friendly, as pointed out by someone, it is didfficult to read in just the single paragraphs..._

_there is also an extended Authors note at the bottom, thank you. enjoy_

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**4:25**

The wind blew straight off a glacier, Sakura was sure, to raise goose-bumps on her exposed flesh. Huddling in on herself as much as she could, she steeled her resolve and resisted the urge to move backward to the wind shielded platform. Her place in the queue would be forfeit and she was deathly sure none of the wilted looking, bleary eyed commuters next to her would permit her to return to the front spot after taking shelter from the elements.

Any fool who dared do such a thing was subject to a shove from perfectly manicured hands, a moisturised elbow in the ribs and a hard stamp on the big toe from the older women in their sensible shoes. Raising her downcast eyes for as long as it took to get a glance at the neon clock told Sakura that it was 4:23pm.

Two minutes until the 4:25 express screeched to a halt at last stop before embarking to the city's largest and busiest station. Two minutes until yet another fight for balance, position and the good window seats began. Sakura had on more than one occasion fancied herself as an athlete. Not because she contained any physical or sporting capabilities above that of an avid fan of sitting still, but because she had for the past three years been a part of the rugby scrum that was peak time public transport; And in Jimmy Choo's or Minollo's no less!

Smiling to herself as she remembered all the Saturday night rugby games she used to attend to please her fiancé, Sakura raised her chin to see the familiar lights and to hear the recognizable grinding as the 4:25 pulled in. She entered the same door as she always did; second door of the third carriage. From experience she had learned this to be the least occupied of entrances. She specially waited for this train and this carriage, just to be one of the first to enter and get her favourite spot.

Yellow handrails glowed the colour of life preservers; if say, a rather overweight, perspiring man entered the train at her door, the handrail would act as such. The grey synthetic fabric covering the seats gave off the smell of cheap disinfectant and every kind of human odour. Sighing but content for the moment, Sakura placed her $246 clad feet over the threshold and took her place by the first window on the left, ready for the onslaught of rude teenagers and fellow angry and exhausted cubicle dwellers who would board at the next station.

* * *

With a smile, Gaara got in line to board the train that according to the sometimes aggravating voice over the speakers was to arrive in two minutes. Beating all the other people who had stood at the road crossing with him to the platform gave him a brief sense of victory. He had taken the stairs instead of the rattling escalator. People who took the escalator when there was a perfectly good and steady set of stairs were lazy, plain and simple. While he was still indulging in his small triumph the 4:27 came to a rather unhurried stop.

_How interesting_, he thought to himself, _that the method of transport for these tired, angry, very much hurried city commuters would look like a super-sized fibre-glass slug crawling around at an infuriatingly slow tempo._ As he entered the second door of the third carriage, his mood turned to contained annoyance. Wedged in the space between the doors that weren't due to open for another three stops and the priority seats, his laptop bag was the only shield between him and the solid wall of humans.

He shifted a little to give his always too broad shoulders a little space. He shuffled a bit to put the laptop case in front of his feet. For a few moments, his eyes were distracted by a strawberry shock of hair passing his view. The hair wasn't the half of it he soon discovered when he peered down and his eyes met another alarming colour, this time acid lime in the form of a 3/4 pant and matching jacket with, not surprisingly, a strawberry red shirt under it. What could have possibly possessed a woman of her age, any age really, to wear something that obviously hideous, especially with that hair? His condemnation of her fashion sense must have been showing in his expression, because when she looked up at him her face turned almost the same shade as her hair and she quickly looked away. While he was still contemplating the red-heads' sanity his eyes caught some movement.

His heart started racing when he realised what had caught his attention; she was in his carriage again. _Today is the day_, he motivated himself. A tiny but mutinous voice in the back of Gaara's mind reminded him that this was not the first time he had promised himself that. Mentally beating the shit out of that voice, he drew himself up to his full 6ft 1", and moved as much as he could through the mass of commuters to stand where he could see her.

* * *

As the next tunnel approached she caught flickering but crystal clear views of herself in the reflective windows and the slight furrow between her eyes grew deeper. She had overslept again that morning and again work ethic had trumped personal appearance; she just couldn't stand being late to her eight-to-four grind, even though she hated to be trapped in between the dull grey partitions of the office separating her from equally as dull and grey colleagues.

So, she had run out of the house make-up and colour coordination free. The blemish she had been eyeing the night before, with intent to squeeze, had doubled in size and now looked like a volcano ready to erupt. Her lank pink tresses tumbled down her back in any direction the wind on the platform had desired. The plain white blouse that hugged her midsection in all it unflattering plains had a few creases on it she longed to smooth out. Worse than the giant pimple dominating her chin, she had put on her show-every-lump-and-bump skirt.

At least her shoes were amazing she consoled herself and, frowning deeper, fixed her gaze to the floor as the doors opened.

* * *

She was scowling when Gaara' eyes found her face. The little crease between her large sea green eyes that he had noticed the first time he had seen her look unhappy was more pronounced than usual. She was beautiful even when she was less than happy. Concentrating on her more than his balance, Gaara leaned a bit to his right to get a better look at her.

t looked like she didn't bother putting make-up on that morning. _Good_, he thought to himself. Maybe she had finally realised she didn't need all that gunk on her perfect eyes or needed to apply a second layer of skin over her already flawless face. Her lips were his favourite feature, the top just a tad fuller than the bottom. Her hair flowed unbound down past her elegant neck in a river of liquid pink. Gaara wasn't in the habit of denying obvious truths. If he had to be honest with himself, it wasn't her faultless face that had attracted him to her almost a year ago when he had first seen her on his way home from work.

Then, he had first seen the back of her and had, like any man in the carriage been staring at her long lean legs barely left to the imagination in the tights and boots that covered them. She had also been wearing a short skirt and a pretty top though the colours and design of the outfit escaped his recollection. When she had turned around to exit it had been her chest that had first gotten the attention of his eyes, not her face.

Her hair, he remembered, had been much shorter. Now, seeing her hair and her face and her body, he was a little irritated with himself that he had objectified her immediately; though there was no point denying she was the object of his fantasies since. He could now see that she was wearing a crisp white shirt that fitted her well and accentuated her slim waist and shapely breasts. A tight, sexy skirt hung to just above her knees and, like every other time he had ever seen her, he noticed she was in heels.

Just then, the doors opened. Gaara hadn't even noticed the train had left and arrived at another station. The watch on the wrist of the middle-aged woman wearing a black pant suit standing on his right read 4:34. When Gaara looked back to the spot his focus had been riveted on, he noticed someone else there. Then, just a little way away, he spotted her again. She had moved from her semi-comfortable spot at the window to make space for a woman with a sweet-faced but crying little kid on her hip.

He felt a smile tug the corners of his mouth. That was very nice of her considering that not one of the other passengers were willing to give up their hard-fought positions as the doors closed. She was probably feeling sorry for the poor kid who was surrounded by much bigger people and looked so scared. The slight smile she gave the little toddler was of pure sympathy. His heart skipped a beat at her smile. She was so stunning he didn't even mind the other passengers jostling around him, didn't even notice.

* * *

When the doors opened with an audible pop Sakura could see an exhausted looking woman with a bawling brat plastered to her hips trying to reach the priority seating. There were simply too many people squeezed in the carriage for her to have any hope of getting there. She looked on the verge of tears as the toddler started squirming and vocalising his discomfort. Unable to deal with the poor woman's struggle anymore, Sakura moved to the side, bumping a middle-aged man in a cheap looking blue pinstripe suit further aside.

The woman moved into the space, propelled by the swarming crowd behind her as the doors closed and Sakura gave her a small smile that she hoped convey all the pity she felt for the woman who was stuck not only in a mass of people, but also with a kid who wouldn't stay still even for a little while. Sakura was grateful for an infrequent moment that she wasn't married. The thought that she may have been the one with the screeching kid was enough to make her a little bit glad her now ex-fiancé broke off their engagement.

As the doors closed and her exit approached, Sakura was knocked from the front, into the man with the blue-pinstripe suit. A hand she was sure had not been near her before, groped her bum and she stiffened in surprise and consternation. _What kind of tool does that surrounded by so many people?_ she thought. She shifted as far away from the guy as the space allowed. Her back had managed to squeeze into the tight little corner behind her so at least he couldn't reach behind her anymore. The man seemed to follow her though. He was on her left side almost pressing into her.

* * *

Seeing the man in the cheap suit reach his hand down her back and further had turned Gaara's ears red with suppressed anger. Where was the man's respect and decorum? No-one does that in front of at least fifty strangers! It wasn't just that it was to the woman who he was hopelessly infatuated with. It was that the man had the nerve to do it to any woman that had caused Gaara to move forward when the doors again opened behind him and subtly but firmly move cheap suit away from the girl he wished he had the guts to speak to.

_God she smells good_, was his only thought as the doors closed once more for ten minutes before the first outer suburb stop appeared.

* * *

Sakura could count on one hand the number of times she had been more uncomfortable around a member of the opposite sex. There was that time, when she was thirteen and her health teacher decided to kill two birds with one stone and give sex ed to the boys and girls together. Just the memory fired up her cheeks. Yeah, that was definitely right up there.

The night she lost her virginity in the back of Kiba Inuzuka's ute at one of those cheesy city look out spots, well that was probably number one and definitely worse than now. But at least Kiba had been shy and incredibly sweet and had those adorable dimples that made her not regret the night, though it was definitely still a cringing point. While wondering whatever became of Kiba, Sakura shifted even more into the wall, feeling cramps constrict around her spine.

Frankly, she would rather be stiff and sore for days than be pressed up any closer against the perve so obviously now staring down her blouse. When the doors open for the last stop before hers, the man was suddenly and unceremoniously pushed aside by a tall figure who seemed to be creating space for himself in between Sakura and blue-pin stripes. She breathed for the first time in what felt like ages but was really only a minute. That was until she looked up at who had taken the space of the perve.

_Oh my God_, was her only thought as the doors closed for what would be ten minutes before again opening at her station. Her watch read 4:38

* * *

The object of Gaara's yearlong fascination was standing right next to him, his chance to talk to her better than ever. And yet, he stood still, frozen in doubt. A line from one of his favourite songs suddenly popped into his head. "_I find it easier to sit and stare than to push my limbs out towards you right there_." Besides the fact that he was standing and just touching someone out of the blue wasn't usually socially acceptable, the general theme was relevant to his current mind set.

What was he suppose to say? An opening to strike a conversation with her had presented itself but Gaara found he had suddenly forgotten everything he had rehearsed for this moment. When he went out on Saturday nights with his mates he was usually one of the first to pick up; talking to women was no problem then.

He hadn't exactly been living a celibate life from when he started thinking about the girl now standing next to him. But this girl was important. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and risk freaking her out. He wasn't really sure what he wanted from her. Insecurity wasn't a foreign emotion to Gaara. All through high school and university he had been unable to approach a girl just out of the blue. Saturday nights were different. His friends were there as a backup. Right now, if she gave him a brush off, or thought him an idiot, he had nowhere to go, no mates to say it was her loss. He didn't want to be her loss.

* * *

Sakura could barely breathe. She was putting all her focus into not looking at the man next to her. He hadn't tried to press right up against her side like the man before. Rather, he seemed to be creating as much space as he could for her. The brief glance she had stolen at his face had brought her up short; this was the guy she often noticed on the train. Notice wasn't really the right word. Admired perhaps, or more aptly, lusted.

He was hands down one of the sexiest men she had ever seen. Some of the women Sakura could stand making brief conversation with had also been 'admiring' his handsome face and toned body. She had not first seen him on her way home. While making small talk with the girl three cubicles down from hers, he had walked past the office doors and the other girl had practically squealed in delight. Apparently, he was the resident man candy as the other girls put it.

Sakura could deny that she wasn't attracted to him about as much as she could deny that the sky was blue. Strong jaw, high cheek bones and a straight thin nose: all the best facial features a man could posses. Thin wide lips and large jade eyes finished off a face a male-model would cut off his right hand for. Red coloured hair that looked so soft she wanted to run her hands through it was styled in that it-looks-like-I-put-no-effort-into-it-but-actually-did style. A toned and well shaped body was obvious under the well tailored suit.

_He probably knows it too_, Sakura thought. _Probably arrogant, thinks he can have any woman he wants and that every woman wants him_. It irked her to come to that conclusion. Like her ex, this man probably thought he was God's gift. Sakura squared her shoulders and worked at putting on a passive face. Well, he may be Adonis' doppelganger, but he would get no reaction from her. Though it made her a little sad to admit it, no man was probably ever going to get a reaction from her. Standing next to the man who she now realised smelled like rain on a hot day, she worked hard to convince herself of that. After all, what had her mother told her?

_"Their all the same Sakura, just differing degree's of heartache."_

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_

While Gaara was busy fighting an internal battle about what to say to the stunningly beautiful woman next to him, she straightened up and shifted a little. Her face looked resigned, like she had just remembered something sobering. It didn't help his composure that she appeared so confident and serious. What if she laughed at him or simply ignored him? His imaginings of talking to her before the present situation hadn't taken into account what would happen if she were to reject him.

He looked down at her and scrambled to figure out what to say; he was afraid to ruin his chances with ill-considered words. Just as Gaara was sure he was about to think of something great and fantastic and completely appropriate to say, the doors now in front of him opened. She shifted herself free of the carriage wall and budged through the people blocking the exit. He refused to wallow in failure as he watched her go and promised himself that next time he saw her, he would talk to her. The tiny mutinous voice was back reminding him that this was again not the first time he had promised himself that.

_

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_

It was 4:47. In sixty seconds the door was due to pop open and Sakura could be free of the people surging like a tidal current around her. Free of the devilishly handsome man next to her. Free of the feeling that she was inadequate, that this man was judging her. She had caught him looking at her, with a look of contemplation plain in his eye.

That this man was evaluating her was enough to make her wish the pin-stripe suit man would take his place; at least his thoughts had been clear and readable. This man next to her now though looked deep in thought, thoughts irritatingly indecipherable in his blue eyes. She didn't like feeling self-conscious while she already knew she didn't look as good as she could. She also didn't like that she loved that this man was thinking about her.

She wanted to cry with relief when the train squealed to a halt. The doors opened, she lifted herself away from the wall and pushed through the people blocking her exit. Without looking back, she knew the guy who had stood next to her to separate her from a blue pinstriped perve was looking at her still. She hoped she never laid eyes on his perfect form again. At the same time, she desperately hoped she would.

The wind that blew in through the doors was straight off a glacier, Sakura was sure, but that wasn't what raised goose-bumps on her exposed flesh. Huddling in on herself as much as she could, she steeled her resolve and resisted the urge to move backward toward the man who had found a way to make her pain-hardened heart beat so erratically.

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_AN// Hi there readers, tell me what you think about this piece, my sister wrote it as a part of a Uni assignment, I just made it into a Gaara/Sakura story. (I simply changed the names)._

_AAN// So as you noticed, it is easier to read now, there is going to be a poll up on my profile, where you can vote, if you want a sequel and what rating it is..._

_I feel this story conveys a lot about that longing that one has for a stranger, and you think they don't notice you._

_Read and review, I will be happy to see what you think of my sisters writing..._


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